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Topic: [Supers] Powers That Be (Read 33329 times)

"Well, thank you again, Miss Kehstose," Michael said with a polite smile. The poor girl was clearly sloshed - he'd seen that look before. Heck, he'd had that look before. She seemed to be somewhat confused, glancing at her ticket and around the terminal. He was about to speak when something hit him: what if he could control this gift? It was dangerous, yes, but maybe it could be done. Mikey focused on Anat as he spoke: "I hope I didn't make you miss your bus. Can I buy you a ticket? It's the least I can do."

Poe watched as the man walked away. He spat blood on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. d**n glad that worked or I'd be hamburger right now he thought. He turned towards the door and walked out.

Once outside he lit a cigarette and looked around. His tongue had already stopped bleeding. He was lucky that way, he seemed to heal quickly and didn't remember ever being sick. Then again, he couldn't remember anything before a few weeks ago anyway. "So it goes" he mumbled. The phrase struck a chord, but the note went sour and faded quickly.He could see the "touchy-feely" surfer from where he stood. He was leaning forward against a vending machine, obviously trying to figure out what was in it and if he wanted any. He decided going back to the bench was a good idea. I'll get in less trouble that way he reminded himself.

There was a girl talking to the priest, but a bus pulled in before he could get a good look at her. He reached in his pocket and turned the music back on.

And though they tell you i am lostand their words report my death is comethe fates have left me breathing stillvery much alive

He grinned as he flicked his cigarette hard at the bench. The spray of orange cinders flashed all to quickly away into the night as he resumed his perch. He looked over at the priest. He seemed harmless enough. If the crazy drunken surfer tried to hug him again hiding behind a clergyman didn't sound like too bad of a plan. Besides, if he was lucky the surfer might be more interested in groping the girl the priest was talking to than him.

He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, making sure the bleeding had stopped. Satisfied he wouldn't bleed to death he resumed watching the priest and the girl talking.

Logged

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats." ~Henry L Mencken

Dern buses! why can't I just magically appear at home!Anat furrowed her brow as the bus pulled away. God d**nit! That was my bus! wait... no, I have another fifteen minutes... I think."What time is it?" She tucked her long brown hair behind her ear and fished out her pack of cigarettes from her pocket. lighting one up she sighed, carefully blowing the smoke away from the priest. darn crack head businessman ...don't want to see anybody hurt.... Don't fall over stupid drunken girl!Anat wobbled a bit. This priest is kinda cute... I wonder where he's going... everybody converging here... separate destinations.She clicked her lighter a couple of times and put it back in her pocket. She never liked carrying a purse when she was traveling at night.

Marcus simply appeared to be loittering inside the terminal besides the big glass doors. He looked out the window and went back to reading his paper. He appeared to be a bored man waiting for someone.

"There are times like this you believe in the order of the universe and a higher power's guiding hand", he thought. Faces and Names from packets matched up in his head. He thought about how to proceeded. He looked up and tapped his shades down. "Oh and look, they are interesting," He thought. "I wonder."

As noisy as the bus terminal was, it wasn't quite loud enough to drown out the sound of some rapidly approaching vehicles outside. Judging by the racket, the owners had removed the mufflers in an attempt to "beef up" their image. Brakes squealed and shouting could vaguely be heard over the cacaphony. Then there was a loud roar, and a plate glass window shattered as a shotgun blast ripped through it. A small swarm of young men in leather jackets, torn jeans, and t-shirts with anarchy symbols, skulls, and heavy metal band logos on them piled through the window. They all looked stoned or crazed or both, and they all had guns. Laughing maniacally, they started shooting, some at random, some at anything that moved.

(OOC: It's fight time! There are six of them, all clustered together now. Greg and Jader go first. Then thug A, John (who I presume just got off the bus), thug B, Sophia, Mikey, Poe, and Anat. Then the rest of the thugs. If Marcus is going to get involved, it will be next round. Let me have it, people!)

As Anat slipped the lighter into her pocket she heard tires squealing and thought there was going to be a car accident outside the station but then the gunshot along with the shattering of the window occurred and Anat hit the floor, pulling at the priest to join her. It didn't take to much effort the fall down on her part, though she was careful to keep her face off of the grotesque floor cover. She watched in horror as the men came in with guns blazing, taking out innocent people. Six of them were together in the room and Anat looked around hurriedly for a place to hide. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die! was all that screamed through her head.

Mikey's expression was a combination of amusement and awe as he heard Anat's thoughts clearly as though they were spoken. This priest is kinda cute... I wonder where he's going... everybody converging here... separate destinations. It didn't matter that it was a stream-of-consciousness rambling certainly caused partly by alcohol. He was reading her mind. The wonder of it stunned him for a moment.

Before he could say something to her, an engine roared and tires squealed outside. Then the unmistakable boom of crash of gunfire ripped through the glass. Instinctively, Michael grabbed Anat and shoved her against the lockers, trying to protect her with his own body. God save us! was all he could think for a moment. His eyes shut tightly and face close to Anat's against the locker, he heard clearly the doors fling open, boots stamp against the tile, and maniacal shouting and laughter as some gang burst into the terminal. The gunfire increased and shots rang out, echoing across the metal lockers and ceramic tile.

Before he realized it, Anat was grabbing him and pulling with her whole weight down to the floor. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die! she screamed. "I won't let you die!" he shouted back over the roar of gunfire. Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio... he prayed while desparately thinking of what he could do. Michael tried to rise and get a better view of what was happening, providing he didn't get killed while doing so.

(OOC: Mikey's protecting Anat as best he can whilst she drags him down this round, then standing up the next.)

Now, where is he...Oh sweet mother of pain... Squeal! Ba-BOOM! The window separating the terminal from the trashed city shattered in a glassy avalanche of silica, allowing drugged up thugs to make a messy entrance, weapons blazing.

Thank Heaven for reprocity, the programmer thought as he drew his 9mm from the holster at his waist that was hidden by his shirt. By the time the police got to the scene, the place would be a wasteland of blood and bullet-riddled corpses, all simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The sounds of the car were washed away by the music pounding in Poe's ears. He barely looked up when the headlights passed over him. He hardly noticed, the only thing that mattered was his music right now. Then came the glass...He looked up slowly as an armed group of young thugs clambered inside the terminal. Shots were fired and Poe dropped behind the bench."@!#$ing skin-head gutter-punk *******s! Really pisses me off..." he growled. He reached for his belt and drew out his knife. "d**n it!" he grumbled again, wishing he'd bought a more practical weapon.If this is all I got, then I guess I better get to it. d**n priest and that girl are gonna get killed...I gotta do something!

Poe steadied his grip on the rather disturbing knife and crouched forward on his toes. Three pushes of a button and music was cued up. He pressed play and started to stand.

...it's not over yetYou don't remember?I won't let you forgetThe hatred I bestowedUpon your neck with a fatal blowFrom my teeth and my tongueI've drank and swallowed, but it's just begunNow you are mineI'll keep killing you until the end of time...

He started rocking back and forth, trying to get himself "pumped up".Here goes nothing!

« Last Edit: February 26, 2007, 02:27:42 AM by the Wanderer »

Logged

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats." ~Henry L Mencken

As bullets sprayed across the terminal, Greg instinctively hit the ground, covering his head with his arms.

A short distance away, Jader ducked behind a pillar, using it as cover. He took a quick look around, then snapped off a shot at the lead thug, the one with the shotgun. The thug obligingly dropped, shot in a vital area of the chest. I guess God does look after his own. The now-dead thug had been aiming at the priest, a sadistic look on his face.

John, meanwhile, had seen a guy with what looked like an assault rifle. Visualize the target...take aim...steady...safety off...squeeeeeeeeeze... However, the thug saw him and fired at almost the same moment. John's aim was off, the thug's wasn't. A bullet plowed into his chest, perilously close to a lung, almost dropping him then and there. He could, he thought, still fight. For a few minutes.

Sophia ducked behind a bank of soda machines, wishing she had a gun on her. Sparks flew as someone took out one of the machines, and various sodas spewed from it, almost like blood.

Before Father Mikey had much of a chance to do anything, Anat pulled him down to the floor as bullets flew over their heads.

I must be crazy. Music blaring in his ears, Poe lunged at one of the gun men. None of them were expecting anything of the kind, and before they realized what was going on, he'd planted his knife solidly in the side of the closest one. A gun went off right behind him as one of the others belatedly tried to shoot him, and he jerked the knife as he whirled towards the noise. Evidently, that wasn't good for the guy the knife was *in* and he toppled backwards, his side and part of his chest a bloody mess.

Another spurt of gunfire ripped through the terminal, killing a perfectly innocent neon sign above Jader's head. Another man close to Poe tried to shoot him, but the goth was actually too close, and he only managed to shoot the body of the guy Poe had already dropped.

(OOC: Two thugs are down, including the one with the shotgun. There's a guy with an AK 47, the rest have handguns. John is down to 1 hp. Poe is now in the middle of the gunmen. Greg, Mikey, and Anat are flat on the ground, but could get up and have an action in the next round. Jader and Sophia are behind cover, John is standing out in the open.)

Jader watched, almost detached as the @!#$ing goth freak went charging into the thugs, getting one of them in the chest and nearly taking a shot himself. As the light above his head blew out Jader shifted a little, his gun pointed at the punk with the AK, taking his time this time instead of trying to pop it off on the run.

Michael managed to loose himself from Anat's grip and stand, back solidly against the metal lockers. He quickly glanced over the room, now fully aware of the utter chaos engulfing the terminal. Two of the thugs were down, taken down apparently by either the man off to the side shouting obscenities or the goth kid - the same one "Eric" had been eyeing - who was in the center of the fray. Mikey's eyes locked onto another man with a gun, apparently having just stepped off the bus, just as one of the thug's shots struck his chest. The man looked shocked, but somewhat stable.

Michael's mind raced. What can I do? was all he could think. Anat's frantic mental screaming still echoed in his head. He looked down at her, still hiding on the floor. "Run!" he shouted to her over the sound of gunfire. The priest looked back to the punks, took a deep breath, and ran.

Now Michael was not a stoutly-built man. All his brothers had been - even Jim, the Benedictine monk - but Michael had always been the runt. Time to prove your mettle, Mikey boy, he heard Jim's voice in his head. They all played football in the back yard as teens, and they still played when they managed to get together every few years. Frank, Mikey's eldest brother, taught him how to tackle using his momentum rather than weight. "Aim for his waist or legs," he'd say, "not his chest. William Perry you ain't." Time to prove yourself, Mike.

The priest focused on one of the punks with a handgun as he charged; he prayed desparately that one of the "good guys" - if indeed there were any - didn't accidently hit him as he approached. Waist or legs, waist or legs, he thought, looking blurrily at the punk as his eyeglasses slipped down his nose. Just a few feet away now. Legs, he finally decided. Cassock fluttering behind him, Father Michael threw his whole weight into the thug's legs and wrapped his arms around whatever he could get them on. Do not forsake me, O Lord; O my God, do not be far from me!

To an outside observer, he might of noticed that Marcus was the only one not really reacting to the ruckus. He stood there, just to the side of the doorway, hiding in plain sight. With all the chaos and shooting, who would be looking at him? He tucked the paper under his arm. He stuck his hand in his pocket (round one).

Anat crawled on her knees and elbows behind a set of lockers and pulled out her lighter and a new cigerette. Kneeling she peeked out from behind the lockers quick. What's he doing? She saw the priest running at the nearest punk! Her hands were shaking as she clicked the lighter open and tried to light the cancer stick that was trembling in her lips. She thought about the priest, how much danger he was in. All of the innocent lives being lost around her. A bullet bounced off of the edge of the locker near her. Startled, she dropped her lit lighter...

"Urk!" John could feel the horrible pain in his chest where the bullet had hit him like a sledgehammer. Dropping to one knee from the pain, he raised his gun to aim at his target again. Heaven protect me... Almost imperceptably, an invisible sheath of energy molded itself to John's body, invisible to the naked eye, but in the air there seemed to be an ambient hum.

(OOC: Activating John's power. Not sure if I can fire as well as activate the power since John didn't move...)

Jader lined up his shot, and managed to splatter the guy with the AK all across the wall before he got another shot off. "THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSIN' WITH ME s**tFACE!!!" he screamed in triumph.

John fought against the pain, and snapped off another shot, but he was having trouble concentrating, and the shot went wild.

Maybe I can jump one... Sophia lunged out from cover, looking to tackle the closest one. She wasn't fast enough, however, and he saw her coming in time to get his gun around. It was a fluke shot; he never would have hit her if he'd been trying. But as it was, it was a kill shot. Her momentum carried her forward a few feet before she collapsed, and it was fairly obvious she wasn't going to get up again.

However, in turning to shoot her, he failed to see Mikey coming at him from the other direction, and the priest hit him low. It was enough to knock him off his feet, and Mikey landed on top of him.

Poe wheeled around to the man next to him, catching him hard in the jaw. The man shook his head, stunned, and blood flowed from the deep gashes the spikes left in his face. He looked disoriented for a moment, and Poe was exulting too much to notice the thug behind him point a gun squarely at the back of his head. However, just as he squeezed the trigger, his hand jerked down. The gun still went off, but now it was pointing at the man who was lying on the ground, pinned. The bullet barely missed Father Mikey. The man under him was not so lucky. He had just managed to get his gun pressed to Mikey's side, but his arm fell limp before he could fire.

Anat, meanwhile, was trying to make herself as small as possible. As she dropped the lighter, it seemed for a moment that it produced a small fireball, but it was gone so quickly that she might have imagined it.

Poe half turned when the gun went off behind him. The guy he had hit recovered equilibrium, and moved. Poe twisted back around as he did, but he was too slow. At point blank range, it would have been hard to miss. Poe caught the bullet in his stomach. He swayed for a moment, then fell to the ground and his world went black.

(OOC: The guy with the AK is down, as is the thug Mikey pinned. There are two thugs still standing, the one Poe hit in the face, and the one who somehow managed to shoot his buddy. Sophia's dead; Poe is down, but just unconscious (and will be fine). Mikey is laying flat on the ground, Greg and Anat are safe behind cover. Jader's still behind his pillar, John's still standing out in the open.)

Anatiel thought she saw her lighter flare up when it hit the disgusting floor, or maybe it was the stress of the situation...She quickly scooped it up and ducked back around the corner to light her cigerette in safety. She peeked back around the corner to see a woman gunned down and then Mikey tackle the punk. Anat almost dropped her cigarette again as she went white, a sharp contrast to the woman's dark blood as it spilled out across the station floor. "She's not moving...." Anat whispered to herself as she looked out over the chaos. Another man shot at Mikey, and Anat jumped, here eyes wide. She couldn't see him too well past all the legs of the benches and she feared the worst. She hid behind the lockers again rubbing her eyes. Everybody is dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it...She didn't cry, she never cried... Sobbing never changes a thing, and that's something she learned as a young girl. Yet, she couldn't stop the tears. Crying always made her feel weak.... she had to do something... She looked back around the lockers and scanned the ground for unattended weapons.

Michael felt the bullet whiz by and bury itself into the man beneath him. "Requiescat in pace," he whispered while thanking God's Providence that the priest wasn't the one dead. Mikey looked up just in time to see the punk grimace and faint, a splotch of blood staining his shirt. Lord, let no more die this day than You will, he prayed silently. Releasing the corpse of the man he tackled, Mikey rose and threw his shoulder into the thug that had just fired, hoping to knock the brute down.

Jader watched as the chick charged the punks, and then was horrified when she stopped running and began flying, limply, the rest of the way. Moving his gun a tad to the side he aimed at the guy furthest from the priest, the priest who seemed to be trying his hardest to get himself killed, bouncing around like it was some sort of perverse mosh pit.

Calm Jader, three, two, pull.

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

Screw this, the cops can sort it out. Greg could see an open door only a few feet away from where he was, and it was away from the shooting. He made for it, staying low to the ground, and managed to not get shot. He was lucky, the door opened into a service hallway, and he could see a street door at the end. He broke into a run as he cleared the door. I am out of here.

Jader was three for three; his third shot caught the thug in the neck. His target obligingly toppled backwards. John fired a second later, his shot sailing past the thug as he collapsed. However, it wasn't a total miss; he grazed the other thug's shoulder.

The thug jerked as the bullet hit him, and Father Mikey was already lunging for him, and didn't have time to correct. He wouldn't have hit at all, but at the last moment, he lost his own balance and stumbled, hitting the thug anyway. It wasn't enough to knock the thug over, but it did make him stagger a few steps.

Anat saw a gun that had fallen from one of the gunmen's hands, about ten feet away from her current position. Shaking, she made up her mind, and lunged for it. She got it, and scrambled back behind cover.

The last remaining thug was pissed off; that was fairly obvious. But he wasn't all that stupid, and he had identified Jader as the biggest threat in the room. He was a fairly decent shot, and caught Jader high in the shoulder as he popped out of cover. It really was only a flesh wound, though. He was about to squeeze off a second shot when his head snapped forward violently, and he fell forward, a nasty hole where the back of his head used to be.

(OOC: All thugs are down. Jader is at 7 hp. Anat is now armed, tho there is no longer a threat. Greg is long gone, Poe will be recovering consciousness soon. You are now out of combat, and have about four minutes, game time, before the cops show up.)

Anat looked back around the corner to take aim at the last thug but he crumpled to the ground before she could even raise the handgun. I guess it's for the best... I'm not a killer...probably would have missed anyway... Oh shoot! Anat suddenly realized that she could get pinned for murdering the gunmen or worse... one of the innocent bystanders. She flipped the safety on and went to find the priest. Should I keep it? what if there are more gun-wielding maniacs? There could be one hiding still... my prints are already all over it...